Echo of the Night: What if?
by ElenaRoan
Summary: DEATHFIC! What if Legolas and Aragorn didn’t return to their homes in time during Echo of the Night?
1. Prologue: Delays

Story Name: Echo of the Night: What if?  
Pen Name: ElenaRoan  
Disclaimer: Don't own any of them, written purely for enjoyment.  
Rating: M  
Warnings: DEATHFIC!  
Summary: What if Legolas and Aragorn didn't return to their homes in time during Echo of the Night?  
Betas: Geris (Grammar and Spelling), Michelle (Comprehension)  
Timeline: III 2991 (Aragorn 60 years old)

* * *

**Prologue: Delays**

"You are leaving?"

"Yes," the ranger stated calmly, "I need to go home."

"Why?"

"Just a feeling that I need to be there."

"Oh." The other ranger looked disappointed.

"What is it?" Aragorn asked, his grey eyes piercing the other.

"I was just hoping I could ask you to take a look at something with me. It is not far, only a day there and back, but if you must leave immediately then I can ask another."

Aragorn frowned in thought. He took his duties with the rangers seriously and if the other ranger wished him to look at something then it was likely that it required skills that he was considered the expert in. The feeling that he needed to get home was nagging at him, he could tell the other that he would take a look when he returned. But what was a day? He could take a look, then go; the other rangers could carry on with whatever was found while he journeyed home to find out why he needed to be there.

"I shall delay my departure until I have looked at what you have found."

"Thank you."

---

"Everyone is exhausted, it is time to head back and send others out here." The voice was soft, weary.

"We have nearly broken this nest, caun nín (my prince)," the voice of his second replied. "Let us break them, then head back. Our replacements will have an easier time removing then. If we leave now the spiders will have a chance to regroup and recover."

Legolas nodded tiredly, his instincts warring inside of him. "Very well," he stated softly, ignoring the instinct that told him to go home immediately in favour of the warrior's instinct to break their enemy. "But we shall return home tomorrow regardless of whether we have broken their strength or no."

The trip home would take until near sunset, if they left immediately, regardless, they would only arrive a day later and would hopefully have more to show for the delay. They would leave at first light the following day and use the day they had ahead to do as much damage as they could to the dark spiders that infested their wood. While it was true that they may take injuries during the day they remained, that was true of any time they left the fortified palace to carry out a patrol, particularly in this region of the forest. One day this time would make no more difference than at any other time.


	2. Chapter 1: Eventful Watch

Story Name: Echo of the Night: What if?  
Pen Name: ElenaRoan  
Disclaimer: Don't own any of them, written purely for enjoyment.  
Rating: M  
Warnings: DEATHFIC!  
Summary: What if Legolas and Aragorn didn't return to their homes in time during Echo of the Night?  
Betas: Geris (Grammar and Spelling), Michelle (Comprehension)  
Timeline: III 2991 (Aragorn 60 years old)

* * *

**Chapter 1: Eventful Watch**

"You are exhausted. Allow me to take your watch."

Legolas shook his head at his second. "There are none here who are not. I will not take rest and leave this to others who are just as weary as I."

"Very well." The reply came with a sigh. "You are pale, caun nín (my prince). If I had not fought alongside you myself I would be asking the patrol healer to inspect you for injuries."

Legolas smiled and put his hand on his second's shoulder. "I am no worse off than any of the others, have no fear. Now you should seek your rest; your watch will come soon enough."

The other elf nodded reluctantly and moved to the limb that was to be his resting place that night. Quickly the last of the patrol were walking the paths of elven dreams with the exception of the three stationed around them on watch.

The first hour of Legolas' watch passed normally, then, unexpectedly, he began to feel nauseous and was quickly forced to struggle to keep himself under control. He needed to call on one of the others on watch but couldn't find the strength or breath to do so. He felt the tree shift subtly around him to give him support and gratefully clasped hold of the branch offered.

"Legolas?" It was one of the other elves on watch; the trees had obviously alerted them to there being a problem. "What is the matter?"

"I..." Legolas got out before clamping a hand over his mouth in a further attempt to control the rebellion of his body. He lifted frightened eyes to the other elf, who had quickly scrambled closer when he saw the prince gag.

"I have sent for the healer to be woken," the elf stated soothingly, wrapping a steadying arm around his prince's shoulders. He could feel the blond trembling and was sure that if it wasn't for the actions of the tree itself Legolas would be on the ground, having tumbled from his perch. "Let us get you down and let the healer look at you."

Legolas nodded slightly and shifted towards him, allowing him to not just support the stricken elf but lift him completely into his arms for the quick trip to the forest floor. That, more than anything else, scared the rest of the patrol. They had been awoken either by the trees' murmurings or the dash of the third watchman to wake the healer.

As soon as he was lowered to the ground Legolas leant forward and braced his hands on the ground, still struggling to control his rebelling body even as his breaths came in gasps.

"It is usually better to allow your body to rid itself of what is upsetting it." The healer's soothing voice sounded in his ears even as his braids were pulled back away from his face, allowing blessedly cool air to flow across his heated face.

Legolas swallowed hard, knowing that the advice was right but having a hard time just allowing things to progress.

"Just relax," the healer instructed as he began gently rubbing the blonde's tense back.

Legolas swallowed again, then wrapped an arm around his stomach as it began to insist on the course he had been fighting since it started.

"Easy. Relax, do not fight it." The instruction came even as the fluid invading his throat retreated again.

He panted for air, already feeling dizzy and weak even though the full extent of the illness had not set in. He didn't fight it, he didn't have the strength to, the next time his stomach muscles constricted; sending black vomit onto the forest floor.

He had just enough time, as he was gasping for breath before the next wave, to muse nearly abstractly that if it had been Estel in this state he would have been nearly panicking for he knew what black vomit was likely to be in a human. If an elf threw up blood, however, there were several differences that were quite obviously not present here.

By the time he was done he felt like he had brought up meals from the previous month and he shakily hung his head, noting almost absently that someone had wrapped their arm around his chest to take his weight. Trembling, he sat back, too weak to feel bothered by needing assistance to do even that small thing.

"How do you feel?" the healer asked softly, wiping Legolas' face with a wet cloth while whoever it was behind him supported him gently.

Legolas didn't answer for a moment, then stated softly, "lhaew (sick)..." The nausea hadn't left even though it was no longer at the level to cause him to heave what was left of his stomach from his body.

"Anything else?"

"Weak...trembly...dizzy..."

"Any pain?"

"No..."

"Anything that seems centralised?"

Legolas shook his head, then groaned instantly as the movement caused him to be afflicted with dry heaves.

He mumbled a few choice words as the elf holding him helped him sit back up.

"Indeed," the healer responded dryly as he wiped the hot prince's face again.

"We are ready to move." His second crouched down next to the healer and looked at Legolas worriedly. "The sooner we reach the palace the better."

The healer nodded, "The prince will need to be carried and I should be close by."

"I can walk," Legolas protested weakly; even as the words left his lips he knew that they would never allow it.

"No offence intended, caun nín (my prince), but you can barely sit on your own let alone walk at any speed," his second replied, spearing him with a look. He continued gently, "Command passed to me the moment you became ill, I will not allow you to make yourself worse."

Legolas swallowed, unable to shake the feeling that he'd made his last command decision...ever. "Very well, do what you think best."

The other elf nodded seriously, then gathered his very ill prince into his arms, settling him gently as possible for the trip back to the palace. Moving through the forest at night was always a dangerous proposition but all of the patrol could not shake the sense of impending doom if they didn't get the prince back to the palace.


	3. Chapter 2: Journey

Story Name: Echo of the Night: What if?  
Pen Name: ElenaRoan  
Disclaimer: Don't own any of them, written purely for enjoyment.  
Rating: M  
Warnings: DEATHFIC!  
Summary: What if Legolas and Aragorn didn't return to their homes in time during Echo of the Night?  
Betas: Geris (Grammar and Spelling), Michelle (Comprehension)  
Timeline: III 2991 (Aragorn 60 years old)

* * *

**Chapter 2: Journey**

The rangers had much that he had found to think upon and research by the time Aragorn returned a day later and finally set out towards home. While he was glad he had found what he had the urgency he felt to be home had increased and he left immediately upon his return, declining a meal in favour of setting out quickly.

For several days the journey was uneventful, though his feeling grew more dire with each passing moment. A day's journey away from Imladris it was so intense that he would have ridden through the night if it wasn't for a rain storm that drove him to shelter in a nearby cave. As the storm continued into the night Aragorn gave up any thought of continuing on to Imladris that night and settled down to wait for dawn.

As the storm died down around midnight nausea woke the sleeping ranger, sending him scrambling for the cave entrance to be violently ill. With no light save the slowly dying fire he missed noting the colour of what he was bringing up.

The light rain that was all that was left of the fierce storm was a welcome relief on his hot face once he was done heaving. Moving gingerly back to the still glowing fire he stoked it before putting some water on to boil. An anti-nausea tea would help him make it to Imladris the next day. Or at least he hoped.

One sip sent him spinning to the side, retching miserably until every last drop of tea had re-emerged and then some. Once it had passed Aragorn stared with dread at the vomit, noting for the first time the colour. As quickly as possible he started packing his gear up; he needed to be in Imladris immediately despite the weakness he felt from the attack.

A growl from the entrance stilled his movements and drew his gaze to the cave entrance. Eyes shone in the darkness though whether they were wolves or Wargs he wasn't sure. One thing he was sure of, though, as he pulled his sword from its sheath, was that he had none of the strength he needed to even wield the blade. He swallowed as he set himself to meet them, the trembling in his limbs obvious even to himself, and prayed that there was a long range elf patrol nearby.

Then the beasts attacked, the solid body of the wolf in the lead knocking the sword to the side as he tried to find the strength he did not have. The last thing he saw was the animal's mouth coming at his face.

---

Three elves sat up in their beds, a silent scream shared between all of them. A quick conference in the hallway and two identical elves headed out into the night hoping against hope that what they feared had not come true that night.


	4. Chapter 3: Desperate Race

Story Name: Echo of the Night: What if?  
Pen Name: ElenaRoan  
Disclaimer: Don't own any of them, written purely for enjoyment.  
Rating: M  
Warnings: DEATHFIC!  
Summary: What if Legolas and Aragorn didn't return to their homes in time during Echo of the Night?  
Betas: Geris (Grammar and Spelling), Michelle (Comprehension)  
Timeline: III 2991 (Aragorn 60 years old)

* * *

**Chapter 3: Desperate Race**

The elven patrol raced through the forest, avoiding the spiders as much as possible. Each one taking turns carrying their captain, their prince. Each one listening desperately to the laboured breathing of said elf to know that he was still with them.

Legolas had fallen unconscious shortly after they had begun their journey through the darkened forest and the worry on the healer's face had only increased as time passed and the prince descended deeper and deeper into unconsciousness.

Abruptly the elf currently carrying Legolas stopped and looked at the blond with a horrified expression.

"He...he..." he stammered, not able to put it into words. The healer knew what had happened; he'd been listening to the ragged breaths intently as well.

"Lay him down!"

Quickly the elf complied and the rest of the patrol gathered fearfully around. The healer wrapped the other elf's hand around the pulse point and instructed him to say something if it should stop. He felt a brief flash of panic; he was a combat healer, not a full healer like those at the palace. Quick as it came he quelled it; he needed to save his prince, now was not the time for fear.

Quickly but calmly he began forcing air into Legolas' lungs, praying as he did so that the prince would begin breathing on his own again. He had been doing that for what seemed like an eternity when the elf he had monitoring the prince's pulse spoke up with a look of panic.

"It has stopped!"

Quickly he included chest compressions in his routine; Elven healers had discovered that many centuries ago, sometimes it revived the stricken being, sometimes it didn't. It was his hope that it would this time. It was not to be.

Moments later they all froze as they felt his faer flee, headed for the Halls of Waiting. Whatever it was that had struck him during the night had claimed his life, leaving a devastated patrol behind. Soon the entirety of Mirkwood would be grieving and they all knew that while the King gave them strength to fight it was the Prince who gave them the hope to continue.

With tears in his eyes the second in command of the patrol carefully gathered what was now only the body of their prince into his arms and they resumed their trek towards the palace slowly. The time for speed had passed, tragically and unavoidably.


End file.
